Desire My Slumbers
by Maaya
Summary: He'll wake up with wet sheets and it is embarrassing to change them, and his shorts, with Alphonse in the room. RoyxEd


Roy/Ed, Angst, T (PG-13)**  
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**Desire My Slumbers**  
by Maaya

_-1-_

Edward doesn't admit to anyone how he sometimes wakes with a start, breathing rapidly because of a dream-image which is still horrifyingly clear in his memory. He never tells anyone how his sheets--wet from cold sweat--will feel warm, then cold against his body and he lies awake for hours, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He wriggles, tosses, turns and for one guilty moment he wishes that he like Alphonse wouldn't have to feel a single thing.

Edward stares at Alphonse's armour every morning and swears quietly to himself that he won't ever think like that again, because seeing his little brother trapped and lost in..._that_, it is worse than when he saw his mother die.

If feeling this is what makes him human, Edward is almost starting to wonder just what is so great about being human.

Waking up those nights, Edward feels as if he is something very insignificant, lost in the universe. The world is a distorted version of his sensei's teachings and he is _falling._ Perhaps it is a twisted version of what he saw inside the gate, as well, mixed with futures and pasts until nothing is recognizable any longer.

Alphonse knows to some degree, he sits leaned against Edward's bed most nights after all. He cannot completely understand--mental and physical pain is linked and understanding can only really come with the whole thing. That is...fine. Edward doesn't want his little brother to comprehend something like this.

"Brother, did you have a bad dream?"

_Inhale, exhale, weak smile, keep the voice steady._ "Yeah. But it's alright now."

Edward knows the cold well. He has felt it since he was eleven.

Ever since he was eleven, he has wondered if he isn't really ancient.

Those nights, Edward feels very, very old.

_-2-_

His blood boils whenever he speaks with Mustang. The man is disgustingly presumptuous, has power over Edward, not only because of rank but because he can choose when to treat Edward like an adult and when to treat him like a child.

When treated like an adult, Edward will pretend he is. He will put effort into the good manners he's almost forgotten he has.

When treated like a child, Edward will act like one. A childish Edward around Mustang is all defiance and hot temper, even if it's just to cover that scary thing called uncertainty.

Mustang plays Edward like a fine-tuned instrument, knowing exactly what button gives what result, sometimes experimenting the tones just for the hell of it and Mustang's own amusement. Edward can't help but react badly. He knows beforehand when anger will soon make his world momentarily shine in red nuances but the force is too strong to restrain, it's a cascade his senses can't keep up with. He barely remembers what he does and says under the influence of that cascade.

Mustang's famed alchemical speciality suits the man well. Edward feels heat when in the man's company.

It is...somewhat fascinating, even if it shouldn't be.

"Fullmetal?"

_Deep breaths. Stay stiff and still, don't tremble, don't argue._ "Yes?"

"Please refrain from hitting officers from now on. It is hard for me to explain."

Lazy bastard. That officer had deserved the punch he got, anyway.

Mustang is the most frustrating person Edward has ever met.

Mustang makes him feel very, very young.

_-3-_

Sometimes, Edward's nights are hot.

It is not comfortable, he'll toss and turn. It is unbearable to stay still because there's something about it that is frustrating; it's like being somewhere between sleep and awareness. It's not really uncomfortable either, even though Alphonse says he groans during those nights.

He'll wake up with wet sheets and it is embarrassing to change them, and his shorts, with Alphonse in the room. Some things shouldn't be shared, not even with one's little brother.

Showers are Edward's best friends after a night like that; cold or warm are both wonderful as long as they have clean water and there's a lock on the bathroom door. Privacy, good God, _privacy_.

"Had a good night, brother?"

Edward halts and almost falls over as Alphonse's words suddenly create an obstacle between him and the bathroom. His whole body feels like it is going to flush bright red and it probably is, already.

"Yes!" he squeaks and with that, he has clumsily climbed over the obstacle and hid behind it by slamming the bathroom door shut.

_-4-_

Heat, Edward decides, is frustrating, uncomfortable and occasionally--weirdly--pleasant. In the end, he can't help but wonder if the heat he feels from Mustang can be somewhat similar to what a night can give.

It is terrifying to realize what that thought might imply.

Edward barely survives the embarrassment when he realizes that Mustang knows what he is thinking. Mustang _knows_.

Eye-contact. Connection.If Edward dies right on spot, everything he owns will go to Alphonse, right? Edward is pretty sure of that and content with the fact. Really. Perhaps he ought to bequeath his automail to Winry. Wearing the things in his grave seemed weird. A waste, somehow.

"Umm," Edward says stupidly. His eyes are caught in Mustang's own.

Mustang looks scary. He is stern, doesn't comment. He goes straight to business, offers some stupid remarks and treats him like a child. Nothing has changed. That is…weird, but Edward is okay with it.

To talk about the heat wouldn't be acceptable. It is so wrong. They both know it is wrong and they know it cannot be revealed. No one will ever know about this.

They suddenly have a silent agreement.

When Edward leaves the office, he can't decide whether he feels warm or cold, young or old anymore.

**end**

To clear things up...I'm not trying to imply that Roy/Ed is something bad. What I am trying to imply is up to you to interpret, though. **  
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